Breathe
by zarlish-dragons
Summary: The eighth year drarry dad AU no one asked for


"This is unbelievable!" Ron fumed as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. "A month with that snake?"

"This is outrageous!" Blaise yelled as he stomped down the stone steps that led to the dungeons. "A month with that weasel?"

"I know," Harry and Draco responded to their friends warily. Hermione and Pansy wisely ignored them, thinking of their own partners.

Earlier that day, the eighth years had gone to their morning class together, because their grade was so small, expecting to be continuing their ongoing lesson of human transformations in Transfiguration.

However, instead of walking into the usually decorated classroom, they instead walked into a room full of bright pinks and blues lining the edges of large diagrams and posters that plastered nearly every square inch of the surrounding walls. In the back of the room, on a small table, eight boxes were neatly laid out, each rattling slightly. Underneath the table, eight soft wicker baskets held several lumpy objects that were covered by fuzzy yellow blankets. The desks had also been vanished.

Harry began to get a very bad feeling.

"Good morning class," Professor McGonagall began tartly, talking to the room at large, "we have a very long lesson today so listen closely for these next instructions," she waited until her confused students had put their books away.

"Now then, I need everyone to take out a piece of parchment and a quill. Your wand will not be necessary. All my hufflepuffs and slytherins up at the front of the room please. Come on now, we haven't got all day!" she finished exasperatedly, sweeping behind her desk to retrieve what looked like a royal purple wizarding cap.

She offered each of the two house's students a sealed piece of paper which she said contained the names of their project partners. She was deliberately being careful not to specify the 'project', Harry thought.

"Well tell us what it is already!" someone at the back of the class yelled. It was a mark of the Professor's obvious bad feeling about what she was about to tell them that she did not reprimand Seamus for being rude. She did grimace, however, but opened her mouth to explain regardless.

"Today we will be taking on a lesson that is used in some muggle high schools to see if we want to continue teaching it at Hogwarts. It is fairly straightforward, though quite demanding and even difficult at times." Harry winced. The bad feeling he had earlier was starting to twist itself into complicated knots. "You will be given a babbling cabbage that will be charmed to act like a… baby. You," she nodded at the students in the front of the room, "and whomever you have chosen, of course randomly, will be sharing a room together for a whole month, taking care of the baby together, learning how to be a parent. This month will invariably help if you choose ever to have your own children, or, already do." at this she glared pointedly at a blushing Cho Chang, who everyone knew was expecting in a few weeks.

"I need you all to-" her next sentence was lost, however, amidst the loud noises of disbelief of every student in the classroom, save for Hermione, Harry thought privately to himself. She looked rather pleased. A loud bang interrupted his thoughts, however, as the Professor tried to successfully achieve the attention of the room again.

"One last thing, pairings are final and cannot be changed. Because the pairings are random, there will be a few same-sex couples but you'll have to live with it. After you learn your partner, come to me so that I can record your names and assign you to a room. The instructions are on the board. This is a triple period so you should have plenty of time to finish the task. When you have finished, go to lunch then come back for the remainder of the day." with those last cheerful words, she sat down heavily at her desk, changed into her feline animagus form, and promptly dozed off.

Harry, meanwhile, watched the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins apprehensively open their slips of paper and gasp in disdain, smile thinly, or frown, before turning with tight expressions to their partner, locating them somewhere in the line or crowd of ravenclaws and gryffindors. He was so focused in watching the exchange, however, that he barely noticed when the room fell completely silent.

A voice cleared its throat behind him. He slowly turned around.

Oh, no.

Draco Malfoy couldn't resist chuckling when he saw the saviour's daft face turn around. The look upon it was priceless, a bit dazed and confused.

But laughing, apparently, was the wrong thing to do. He saw other boy's face flush with anger, and before Draco knew it, he was sprawled on the ground with an aching jaw. Jumping up angrily, he looked at Potter, a wave of anger and despise masking his earlier amusement, though it was mixed with something else, Draco puzzled. He filed that thought away under 'look at it later when you're not facing off with Potter' and turned to look back at the now heaving Harry Potter.

"WHAT THE FUCK POTTER?!" Draco spat out. He knew he looked bad like this, his hair now tousled and falling around his face, but he didn't fucking care. He was going to make Potter pay. He threw out his fist as if he was going to punch Potter, hoping he would fall for it. He did. The other boy began to deflect the fist, but with his attention on Draco's clenched hand, he didn't notice Draco's foot quickly sweep his feet from under him. The scarred boy fell on his arse, now livid.

But then, but then, he began to laugh. He began to fucking laugh. He began to do what had gotten Draco in trouble in the first place. Harry stood up shakily, nearly tripping, but that only made him laugh harder. The whole thing was absurd. What was really the bloody cherry on top was Potter's outstretched hand, as if he wanted Draco to shake it. Draco snorted and swatted the other boy's hand. Yeah right, he thought, cocking his eyebrow as Potter just laughed again and said thoughtfully: "People really haven't changed. But you're right. I think a hug would be better." Draco didn't even have time to tense before Potter was on him.

Harry Potter had no idea what had come over him. One second he was punching the boy in the face, the next he was hugging him. His logic had some reason, he supposed, it took the edge off things, sort of. It was true that after that brief, barely second long hug they were both less indifferent towards each other, but Harry couldn't get rid of the feeling that something significant had happened in that awkward, joking, spur-of-the-moment hug. He decided to ignore it.

The task, the students soon learned after recovering from the shock of the whole Draco/Harry thing, was to visit each diagram and take detailed notes on how to do each activity, in order to adequately prepare themselves for their own 'baby'.

By unspoken agreement, Malfoy took the left and back walls while Harry took the front and right. They both worked quickly, and in silence, though one particularly hairy moment in general nearly had Harry off his rocker. What scared him about it the most was that he didn't know what he would have done if Malfoy hadn't taken care of it.

Malfoy had accidently trod on Hannah Abbott's foot, which resulted in him being pushed extremely hard, which resulted in him being thrust unceremoniously into Harry's back, which resulted in Harry saying, "miss me already?", which resulted in Malfoy slapping Harry upside the head so hard he lost his glasses. Harry had sighed then, turning back to a particularly vicious poster about small things the couple could do to subtly brighten the family's day, such as braiding your baby's hair (long hair was not necessarily gendered), master the art of wrangling rubber duckies in the bath, and how to properly tickle the baby under the chin just so, while simultaneously flipping Malfoy off.

At last, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses to get the spots out of them, he heard a gruff, "Potter," from behind him and turned warily around.

"What now?"

Malfoy bristled.

"I just wanted to sorry for putting you off your emotional rocker this morning. I know you aren't very stable right now," he stopped short when he saw Harry's expression. "No! No, not like that, just… fucking hell Potter you don't make this easy do you?" he sighed then, trying to formulate his thoughts. But before he could-

"Git," Harry muttered darkly and grabbed his bag. "I'll see you after lunch," he spat. Then practically ran from the room, a twist of… what exactly? Screwing up his face.

Lunch was delicious, thank you very much. There was nothing quite as soothing as ham and cheese on rye, Draco thought sarcastically to himself. He was bored; he looked around, spotting Blaise angrily putting his books into his bag and sending a silent plea in him and Pansy'sdirecion for them to join him.

With a sigh at the idea of never finishing his dry sandwich, he grabbed his books and followed the two out of the hall. Out of his peripheral vision he vaguely registered Potter and his minions leaving as well.

Copycat, Draco thought childishly.

As Draco slumped backward into his bed, it hit him. It fucking hit him.

He was going to be sharing a room with Harry Fucking Potter for a fucking month. With a fucking baby. They might as well be bloody married! Draco thought hysterically, giggling once. He clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. What was he doing?

Harry sighed as he sank into his favorite armchair by the fire. He vaguely heard Ron and Hermione asking him something, so he just nodded yes to whatever they were on about, thinking sleepily it was probably something like bringing him hot chocolate or asking if he was okay. That would be some comfort, he thought. Then he fell asleep.

Some time later, he woke up. His first thought was what time is it? His second coherent thought was after having cast a tempus charm. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT, was the only thing running through his head as he yanked his bag off the ground and slung it over one shoulder. The brief charm had revealed that he only had three minutes into class. Three minutes to sprint to the Transfiguration department across the castle. As he ran, he briefly wondered why Ron and Hermione didn't wake him, then decided that was an issue for another time.

He was two minutes late.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, staring at him over her spectacles. He flushed, vaguely noticing the desks having returned, then looked around for a seat. He saw everyone sitting with their partners, so he sighed and dragged his feet towards a smirking Malfoy.

"As I was saying," the professor continued with a pointed look towards Harry, "you will, on my command, select one person to go gather one of the wicker baskets while the other will gather one of the boxes atop the table."

Everyone shuddered at that and immediately nominated their partners for the latter job, as no one wanted to get near the boxes, which were now emitting a sort of whistling and growling sound as they shook precariously.

Professor Mcgonagall gave the word, and the whole class launched into arguments over which partner would get the odd cardboard box.

Surprisingly, most of the hufflepuffs held their own; after the war they became increasingly more fearless and now didn't take shit from anybody. Of course, all the slytherins won their argument, and of course, all the gryffindors lost theirs. All except one pair, that is. Harry was sure the system was rigged. Blaise had ended up with Ron, he and Draco, and, now, the straw that broke the hippogriff's back, Hermione and Pansy.

They were in having a livid conversation, Pansy looking about ready to start throwing hands. Hermione, although still exchanging fierce words refused to pull her wand or engage in violence of any sort.

"You get the box you filthy mudblood! YOU DESERVE AS MUCH!"

"No." Hermione said calmly. The whole class was watching now. Even McGonagall.

Pansy gaped, then drew herself to her full height. She pointed her wand at Hermione. "I. hate. You."

Professor McGonagall decided she has had enough. She quickly over to Hermione and whispered something in her ear. Pansy watched the exchange through narrowed eyes and raised her wand higher. Hermione nodded.

"Alright Pansy. You win."

"I… what?"

"You win," Hermione repeated, clearer this time. Professor McGonagall nodded and and turned away.

"Alright class. You know what to do." she nodded to the room.

Once the room was silent again, she told everyone to place the box between them on the floor between the two sitting partners. Once this was done, she walked over to where Blaise and Ron were sitting on the floor and instructed them to put the basket aside and hold hands over the box. She spoke to the class at large and repeated the instructions.

There was a few audible thumps as the heavy wicker baskets were set behind the pair and more than a few scorching glares as the partners took each other's hands.

Harry glanced uncomfortably as he reached out a hand to grab Malfoy's. Malfoy slowly turned to look at him. If looks could kill, Harry would have lost his title of The Boy Who Lived. Nevertheless, Malfoy reached out a slender hand with long graceful fingers and rather loosely grabbed Harry's own strong and thickset left one. Harry's tanned skin stood out rather abruptly against Malfoy's pale, almost milky skin. His skin was also quite… soft,Harry realized sullenly.

By now the class had turned its attention back to Blaise and Weasley. The whole class held its breath as Weasley slowly reached out a visibly shaking hand and lifted off the lid of the box. He realized Potter was squeezing his hand rather tight. He turned around again and glared, although it was short-lived because Draco really wanted to see what was inside. Longbottom didn't look concerned, Draco thought. Instead the boy had leaned over the box to look at its contents almost as if confirming what was inside. He nodded once then shut the lid. Curious, the other students did the same, upon seeing the relieved and slightly incredulous looks on Blaise and Weasley's face.

Draco turned back around. He was was slightly annoyed to learn Potter had already opened their box, but his curiosity won out. He leaned over the edge to see what was inside and saw a... cabbage. That was talking no less.

Of course. He thought. McGonagall had said something about what was it? Babbling cabbages? Yes, that's it. That's also why Longbottom didn't seem concerned. Herbology was the only thing he was not a perfect dunce at, Draco remembered. Ah, well. So much for some fanged monster sent to kill them all. He sighed.

The cabbage was rather leafy… and green… and… cabbage-y, Draco thought, using his vast powers of observation. Aside for the infantine sounds it was making (he heard Longbottom patiently explain to Millicent that they were about the age of a one month year old), he didn't really see how they could be turned to babies.

The class quieted again as Professor McGonagall raised her wand over the cabbage and instructed Blaise and Weasley to keep their hold on each other.

"Brace yourself, this may be a tad unpleasant," she said firmly. "Duo corpus in spiritum puer,"

A blue light snaked around their hands, curling around their fingers and wiggling through the cracks in their palms. It gave a jerking motion once and curled around Blaise's finger to flick it. I continued making their hands do odd, random movements, until suddenly it jumped into the box in one long blue strand, and stayed there. Nobody else could see what was happening but the two, who gasped childishly.

Shakily, Blaise reached in and pulled out something gently. It was a very naked, very caramel-skinned, very auburn, very blue-eyed, very lightly-dusted-with-freckles… baby.

Weasley gasped; he moved to stand behind Blaise, who was cradling the baby in his arms, and put his hands on his shoulders. The whole class gasped too. The pair took that moment to remember themselves.

Weasley snatched away his hands as if burnt, and Blaise put the softly gurgling baby back into the box.

"Is this a real baby?" he demanded to Professor McGonagall.

"No," she replied evenly. "However, starting tomorrow it will start acting exactly like one."

"Tomorrow? Why not today?" Weasley asked, his brow scrunched up in confusion.

The professor pursed her lips before answering. "We want to go easy on you for tonight, but only tonight. Parenting is not an easy task."

Blaise nodded. An uncomfortable look came over his face. "Why did I have that reaction with Weasley earlier? I felt like a proud parent. I felt real attachment to both of them in that moment." He screwed his face up. "That was kind of bizarre."

"Ah, yes. Those are natural emotions when one sees their newborn for the first time. Don't worry, it won't happen again; it was just the first instincts of the spell," the old professor said, faintly smiling, almost in amusement at Blaise and Weasley's painfully relieved expression.

She told them something incomprehensible, then began to briskly walk go to each pair, repeating the spell and smiling that faint smile when the couple immediately moved to be close to each other and then, realizing what they were doing, jumped away quickly. She also seemed to be, lest Malfoy's ears deceive him, listening to the students' bets on what the baby would look like and agreeing to certain suggestions.

Draco sighed nonchalantly, careful not to portray the large amount of bracing he was doing to himself. He didn't trust the spell's… after effects.

Professor McGonagall finally came to their table, leaning in closer to them to say something. Draco knit his eyebrow in confusion. She hadn't done that with any of the other pairs. Across the cabbage he saw Potter doing the same.

"Alright you two. I know for this project especially it will not be easy to be civil, but make an effort. Alright?" She waited until they nodded, however hesitantly and roll-eye-y and gestured to their hands.

"Focus on your personality and spirit, whatever that means to you. Not what it means to someone else." at this she looked at Draco. They both nodded again, and stared with apprehension toward the cooing cabbage.

"Duo corpus in spiritum puer," Professor Mcgonagall said in a clear voice.

Draco instantly felt something peculiar curling around his hand; it was like another, warmer, hand was trying to control his. He watched as his pinky finger flicked Potter's, his hand gently distengle itself from the other one and then reattach itself, and his pointer finger point accusingly at the floor. He gave a very un-Malfoy-esque snort, however, when the blue light flipped Potter the v-sign. He was surprised to hear McGonagall snort as well. Potter glared at them.

After a few more seconds of toying with their now entwined hands, the blue light jumped into the box as the two boy's hands repeated the same action just as strongly, except away from each other's.

They watched, entranced, as the blue light coiled around the now suspiciously silent cabbage and began to glow. The cabbage's form grew into that of a baby human's, and molded its features into small feet with even smaller toes, tiny, grubby hands and arms, and perfect little eyes with no iris color. In fact, none of the baby had color. It lay, a perfectly formed human, but sometime during its process it had bleached itself and remained that way. Even the hair, which was at nearly shoulder length, was whiter than Luna Lovegood's or even Draco's.

"Wha…?" Potter started, voicing the question Draco was wondering.

"Hush," McGonagall scolded them, though she looked distinctly worried.

They continued watching when, suddenly, the first color began to show. The three held their breath as everything happened at once. Suddenly the skin was a delicate cream, all of the limbs blushed to a slight pink, and the hair turned a brilliant dark red.

But the eyes, those were the best. They were the color of molten moonlight, a liquid silver that changed hues every second. They were Draco's eyes.

Draco, though he felt as if he shouldn't, reached out into the box and oh-so-gently extracted the tiny, delicate, child. He cradled her in his arms, supporting the slightly lolling head and gazing into her wide, perfect, innocent eyes. He felt Harry's hands on his shoulders, and felt, rather than heard the class's and McGonagall's gasp of astonishment at his endearing behaviour. He found he didn't give a farting fudgesicle.

He couldn't help it; he smiled.


End file.
